Within Me
by Starkiller
Summary: When Bra's body is uncovered on a beach, Goten decides to investigate into her alleged suicide. A series of cryptic entries in her journal will lead him to the truth, but nothing can prepare him for what he is about to discover GB, TP, MarronxBurter
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: DBZ and all its pertaining characters, names, locations etc belong to Akira Toriyama.

**A/N:** Yes, Within Me is making an edited return! Well, more than that really. It's a complete re-write with new characters and a fairly different plot. The old Within Me has been renamed 'Fairytale'. It is a separate fic of sorts - completely different writing, which is why I'm keeping the original up on so's not to upset people. I hope you enjoy this fic just as much as the previous and I'd like to thank everyone for the incredible reviews and emails you sent me!

**Full Summary:** When the body of Bura Briefs is uncovered on a beach, Goten decides to investigate into her alleged suicide. A series of cryptic entries in Bra's journal will lead Goten to the truth, but nothing in his darkest nightmares can prepare him for what he is about to discover. For within the realms of the Higher Dimension, one corrupt official holds a terrible secret. And when Goten is visited by Bra's unlikely Shinigami, he realises that this secret has the power to destroy everyone he loves...

**Within Me  
**Prologue

_11/02/01_

_ These dreams have been haunting my sleep for five weeks now; the images are vivid and flashing, like lightning but never incessant. I started this dream log as a means of fitting the pieces together during my waking hours, yet still, nothing makes much sense. What chills me are the voices; garbled tongues, guttering, choking, struggling – howling like starving dogs. The first night I heard them, I pitied their wretched cries. Admittedly, they frightened me, but I knew that logic dictated dreams are only the mind's interpretation of the day's events. Then they broke the barrier between night and day._

_ I hate them. I want them to quiet, to find whatever it is they're begging for and leave me alone. This isn't normal. Not even the most fertile imagination can cut flesh. But who do I go to? How do I explain this is not my doing? I know it's not, I'm not mad._

_You more than anyone would know what to say, what to do. I wish you could help me with what's happening. But I've never feared anything as much as I fear myself right now. I want it all to end._

- Bura

oOo

The wind whistled through the bare branches of a large Oak tree, blowing dry the wet leaves and sending them off in a flurry of reds and oranges into a dismal November sky. A crowd of us had huddled together beneath the broad trunk, heads bent against the bitter cold.

The look on Vegeta's face was indescribable. His dark brow was knitted together as he scowled at a patch on the ground four feet in front of him. Bulma's face was ashen as she leaned ever so slightly into mums supporting embrace.

Trunks was no better than his father. I glanced at him, standing between myself and Bulma. He may have looked calm and collected, but the heavy bags under his eyes spoke for themselves. I offered nothing but silent comfort. I know him well enough to know that's all he'll ever accept. A bit of the old royal Vegetan blood still flows through his veins.

My niece, Son Pan, stood close behind him and offered the same silent comfort as I did. But as I watched, I noticed her fingers grip the threads of his jacket - the small sign of a bond strengthening.

I watched them all, one by one, the Zenkai Warriors and the next generation all clustered together in a semicircle around that one spot. I studied their faces; watched the grief and heartache swell with every breath, with the knowledge that my own face mirrored their expressions.

Pained, I turned away from these multiple mirror images, found myself drifting to another place - or more specifically, the night before it happened, when I had dreamt of her. I hadn't made much of it then and only flashes come to me now. She had been sitting at a table under one of those large umbrellas, sunglasses tangled in her long blue hair, casually sipping on a frappuccino which was dripping flavoured ice onto the pages of a book she was reading.

I watched myself in the reflection of her tinted glasses as I hurried towards her. The little street café was bustling with people and she had saved a seat for me. The glaring sun beat down on us, the white light changing her hair to starlight. I froze as she glanced up at me with her usual bright and breezy disposition. She looked older, more frail. Around her eyes deep lines had formed and the blues of her irises had lost their burning vitality. But still she smiled, though it seemed a struggle, and pushed the empty seat towards me. I remained standing, fixed in place by her appearance and the sudden chaos residing inside me.

She simply shrugged her thin, frail shoulders. An odd smile formed on her lips as she pondered, nursing her drink. Then she spoke. "I need to tell you something. Something very important." She looked at me, the same carefree nature evident in her posture, but her eyes now carried the weight of a heavy burden. "First, look behind the curtain."

The difficulty with dreams is that you can't control them and at that moment I woke, covered in sweat and heart racing, the same raging turmoil boiling up inside me. Like I said, a dream's a dream and I didn't think much of this one at first, odd as it was. I'm no dream psychologist; I don't go searching for hidden innuendos and meanings in every nook and cranny. But I know I've missed an opportunity somehow. I felt suddenly sick standing there, amongst her friends and family, knowing that there was a chance I could have prevented her death.

I took one last glance around. Everyone, apart from Trunks, Pan and Marron had left.

_'The famous five has been broken'_, I reminisced.

When Goku, my dad, had left us, our families had lost contact for what could have been forever. Bra was the mediator, the glue and the elastic, which snapped us back together and held us in place. I have to wonder at what might happen in her absence.

The four of us stood silent for a while and gazed at the grave scattered with flowers; a vain attempt at cheer which inevitably resulted in having the opposite effect. The red and blue hues of the roses and violets brought the memory of that awful morning back to me like a swift kick to the gut: the rhythmic flash of the police lights; the shouts of the paramedics on the beach; the hiss of the water as it sluggishly lapped against the shore. Then, without really understanding what I was looking at, I'd jump at Trunks' anguished cry and watch him, bemused, as he ran towards that naked body on the sand.

And as I stand here now, before this cold slab, I'm still unsure at what I'm looking at.

_Bura Briefs  
__Beloved daughter, sister,  
__and good friend to all who knew her  
__May she rest in peace_

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews arevery much appreciated lol, I can't wait to hear what people think about MarronxBurter. Note for later - you're not going to get your own way by flaming me. If you don't like MaxB, sod you P 


	2. The Burial Mire

**A/N:** Haha, okay I realise the beginning didn't make much sense. But hang in there, it is a mystery after all! The next few chapters rewind back to a couple of weeks before Bra's death.  
**Jeice:** An' when am I in this?  
**Star:** Is that all you care about!  
**Jeice:** No, I really care about Veggie's little brat (end sarcasm)  
**Star:** Damn you sarky Aussie! You should be kissing my ass for giving you a spot in this fic at all!  
**Jeice:** That sounds fun (lecherous grin)  
**Star:** O o

**Within Me**  
Hello darkness, my old friend

The gorge was deep and damp, and stank of wet leaves and stagnant water. An icy chill swept through the blackness, carrying with it the putrid scent of decaying flesh and far off cries. Bra wrinkled her nose and shivered in her thin cotton nightdress, more from the lifelessness of the strange place than from fear. Her bare toes touched upon something hard and dry. Tentatively, she pressed her full weight down on the invisible object, which cracked and splintered in retort.

'_Bones,'_ her mind whispered in alarm. The idea of picking her way across a heap of scattered skeletons was not one she relished, but it didn't seem like there was any other way out. The high, treacherous walls of the gorge towered hundreds of metres above her head. It was as if a knife had cut a great slash in the land and she was standing at the bottom of it, bewildered and lonely, but happy to be hidden below ground than above where the strange winged creatures circled the canyon ominously, their beady eyes scowering the land for prey in to which they would sink their long sickle-shaped beaks.

Another shiver travelled up her spine. There was no running from this place, which now resided within the subconscious confinements of her mind. Bra felt sick at the thought that she might never wake up.

'_What a silly notion,'_ she thought with a forced smile and stepped gingerly over a grinning skull, '_besides, dreams are not always what they seem. A nightmare can be interpreted in as many different ways as a piece of art. They can even be prophetic,' _she thought, keen to keep positive. '_Who knows, maybe it means a bit of luck is coming my way… I probably shouldn't have eaten that hunk of cheese before bed.'_ Bra paused for a break on top of a slippery rock covered in green scum, knowing deep down that she was fooling herself. Her sharp eyes caught a glimpse of the pale purple sky above.

Then, a skeletal hand reached up and covered her mouth, dragging her down amongst the slick and burial grounds. She tried to scream and wriggle out of creature's grasp, but his grip grew all the more fierce.

The figure's face was emotionless and pale as the moon. The black mantle he wore looked as if it had been woven from cirrus clouds, and his fingers as though they had been carved from the bare tree branches at winter. They scratched and grazed Bra's fair skin as she struggled, and yet his firm hold was almost irresistible – temptation warring with repulsion, a feeling which always alarmed her when she dreamt of him.

'_It's only a dream Bura, focus!'_ she urged herself, '_people have them all the time, wake up!'_ With one last tug, Bra wrenched out of his grasp, her blue eyes flashing triumphantly as she did so. She turned to face him, raising her chin as if daring him to make a second attempt.

"That was a sloppy move," she spat indignantly at the wraith. "You're usually far more cautious."

Behind the folds of his mantle, two milky colourless eyes gazed impassively back at her. Slowly, silently, the wraith extended an arm towards her.

Bra reared back, shivering with disgust. "Don't touch me!" she commanded, shunting the decaying arm aside with contempt.

"Princess, you wound me," the wraith remarked in a tone she suspected was mocking, though she could not quite tell from his rattling breath. "Heart hard as stone."

"Every night you meet me here, every night you speak sheer pleasantries, and every night I tell you to bog off!" she snarled. "Most guys, even dead ones, would get the hint by now."

The wraith chuckled, abrasively. "Yes," I suppose that I am perhaps a little persistent," he said and the loose fleshy tissue, which served as his mouth, pulled into something that resembled a smile. "I like to think of it as one of my better traits."

Bra folded her arms and tossed her pretty head resentfully. "You might as well. It's not as if you're swarming with those."

He grinned, the putrid skin around his lips pulling aside so that his entire jaw was visible to her. "So cold, Bra. You wound my honour. I feel the gentleman in me has failed you somewhat," he smiled. "But I must admit, I do enjoy you quips."

Bra glowered at him beneath her long eyelashes. Loki never got really angry with her; at most his expression revealed a trace or irritation, but it soon melted away. He explained that he could never get angry with his Princess.

Loki slunk into the thick green mire, chuckling softly: a warm, soothing sound, which reverberated against the cavern walls. It was certainly not the villainous mocking laughter she was used to. He almost sounded inhuman: _Godlike._ The sound washed over her like an advancing wave as it echoed around the gulf.

Once again he extended his hand out towards her. And with a heavy sigh, she took it.

Almost at once Bra found herself propelled forwards into a narrow, cobbled street. The night sky was starless here and silent as the grave, but the street was illuminated with soft golden halos of light from the street lamps, which a small, filthy looking boy was lighting, one by one.

The town looked as if it had been snatched right out of a fairytale.

Small houses lined the streets of cobblestone. Crooked and bent, they lent precariously over the road on either side so that the tips of their slated roofs almost touched in the middle. Tall, affluent young men marched by in their tailed coats and top hats, or chatted and spun their brass-knobbed canes lavishly by the roadside.

"Why are there such wealthy men in a rundown part of town like this?" Bra found herself asking her pale-faced companion.

Loki smiled shrewdly and simply said, "Nothing is what it seems in the Minds Eye. Look again."

Bra frowned, irritated with Loki's infuriating inability to ever hand over a straight answer, but she grudgingly obliged and turned to look at the young socialites again. Now she realised something was very crooked about them too.

Bra almost gasped aloud. Their handsomely chiselled faces were smudged, or obscured, by some grey gauze and the more she squinted the harder it became to distinguish their features.

She looked to Loki, fearfully. "I don't understand. It almost feels as if I'm going blind looking at them,' Bra said with a terrible shudder. Quickly, she turned her gaze away. "I can't look at them anymore. What on Earth made them like that?"

"What makes you think they haven't always been that way?"

Bra was about to snap how ridiculous a notion that was before she caught the eyes, round, wide and curious, staring at her from behind the dirty glass panes in the houses. '_Children?'_ she thought and peered at them curiously. The surrounding cramped quarters were full of them, pointing and whispering soundlessly to each other at the odd pair in the street.

Loki was smiling serenely. "Ah. It seems we have a small problem."

Bra glanced at him, askance. "What do you mean a small problem?"

But she already suspected she knew.

Peering over dustbins and emerging from the shadows of the streets, their grimy young faces gaunt and pleading, the children crept towards her. Bra swallowed fiercely and inched closer to Loki, unsure whether to be afraid of them or not.

Suddenly, the faceless socialites collapsed to the ground, their long legs crumpling like paper beneath them. Then together, they dropped their grey heads onto their shoulder blades and at once made a sound which split the night, a terrible brazen roar which chilled Bra to the heart. She clutched at Loki's withered hand, who in turn held her tight.

A moan of terror followed the cry and the children scattered. Grey, boneless bodies were slithering from the forgotten tailored suits, merging as one and rushing down the cobblestones towards the children, who ran frightened and frantically across the street like rabbits in a fox's den.

The boy lamp-lighter looked terrified as he clambered desperately up his ladder.

Recklessly, Bra called out to him. "Get off that thing! You're not safe there!"

The boy gave her a fleeting, horrified look and attempted to latch onto the streetlight itself, but the creature was too quick and swallowed the lamp up, wick, flame, boy and all, in one instant.

Bra shuddered a dry sob. "I don't want to see this."

"That is a selfish thought," Loki replied, watching the game of cat and mouse as it played out around him.

"Can't you do anything?" she asked, earnestly.

A secret smile crossed his lips. "Perhaps. But now it is time for you to awaken."

**oOo **

**EliteVegito:** Thank you very much! Heh, sorry for nearly making you cry though. I promise the next chapter will make more sense. I have the whole plot worked out, even though it may seem a tad random at the moment.

**LunaBela:** Thanks for the fav luv! I'm so glad you don't like MarronxTrunks or Goten. Can't stand those pairings. I find them so bloody dull! So you can be certain they won't show up in this fic.

**Utanbisaya:** Yay, an old fan! Thank you for reading the new version. I really didn't expect anyone would remember Within Me. Ahh, the ego boost )


	3. The Sounds of Silence

**A/N:** This chapter still takes place before Bra's death. I'm hoping things will become a little less confusing next chapter...  
**Jeice:** That's becomin' a habit of yours. And ah'm still not in this!  
**Starkiller:** Would you like some cheese with your whine? - -

**Within Me**  
I've come to talk with you again

Bra lay in the cool, dim light of morning and stared, her mind a groggy blank in the first few minutes of her wakening. Her ceiling seemed an endless cloudy sky and there was a pungent scent in the air. She turned to bury her head in the soft pillows, only to find small prickly blades of dew-coated grass, which tickled her nose. A cool breeze brushed her damp cheek. Alarmed, she sat upright, turned to look at the imprint she had made in the green pasture.

"Not again!" Bra groaned and rubbed her hands against her face in frustration. "Why here? Why does it have to be here?"

Tentatively she raised her sharp eyes to the long vertical slabs above her, rising, solemn, like the great tombstones of Kings she had glimpsed in history books, its' jagged peaks pointed like teeth. For a moment she had to marvel in terrified awe at the prehistoric work of art, which was _Hanging Rock_. Beyond the edge of the spectacular volcanic mass she could hear the roar of the waves as they crashed against the cliff side far below.

The cliff-side had given her nightmares as a child. When they had been younger, Goten and Trunks had taken Pan, Marron and herself camping here on the grassy pasture by _Hanging Rock_. She could still remember the mournful sound of the wind whistling through those treacherous, jagged points late at night. Bra felt struck dumb in its powerful presence; it felt at once old, strange and very much alive, as if the ancient construction was breathing magic.

Bra swallowed. She would never consciously decide to come back to such a place. Yet this was the third time in two weeks where she had awoken under the shadow of _Hanging Rock_.

'_Well I'm not staying here a moment longer,'_ she thought peevishly and glowered at the molten rocks.

Quickly, she stood to her feet and willed her ki to push her high into the cool morning air. Her stomach dropped as a gust current of air threatened to take her balance. Normally, Bra preferred machines to do all the flying and was quite unused to manipulating her ki to such an effect.

'_Anything to get away from this awful place,'_ she thought, grimly.

The flight back was wet and chilly, but soon Capsule Corps' immense dome loomed ahead of her, its lights and windows dark and shuttered. '_Good,'_ she thought, gratefully, '_they're not up yet.'_ So far, she had managed to keep her nightly escapades secret from her parents and brother; which considering how suspicious Vegeta could be was quite a feat and Bra allowed herself a small applause at her cunning.

She glanced across her shoulder in the direction she had flown. Western city's towering skyscrapers and buildings shielded her view of the cliffs, which tumbled down into the sea. Bra touched down on the main path of Capsule Corps, the gleaming white building a welcoming sight.

She entered the house by the back door and traipsed into the kitchen, grimacing at her reflection in the mirror. Her nose was red and running and dark bags were beginning to form beneath her eyes.

"You look a mess," Trunks mumbled from the doorway, half chewing on a piece of toast. Already, a blob of strawberry jam had made a home on his white shirt and his tie was knotted in several places.

Bra raised a slender eyebrow and smirked. "You don't exactly look like Western city's most eligible bachelor yourself."

"Oh yeah?" Trunks strolled casually towards her and dumped the morning paper on the table, "_the Daily West_ begs to differ," he shot her a superior grin and pointed to the front page of the newspaper, which was plastered with pictures of C.C. International's handsome President.

Bra grabbed the paper and gaped. "That's the second time this year!" she exclaimed.

"Ah, ah," Trunks shook his head and wagged his finger in the air. "I think you'll find it's the third. And that's only in _the Daily West_. You should see what _Dragonballz_ has to say about me!" he grinned stupidly.

Bra pretended to gag, then gave a shrug of her slender shoulders. "Well you know what this means."

Trunks took another large bite of toast and smiled. "That I'm dashingly handsome?"

"That we'll have to subscribe to a another paper," she retorted.

"Aren't you the tetchy Princess this morning," he said.

Bra slumped against the table, one arm resting beneath her chin while she plucked an orange from the fruit-bowl with the other. "I had a restless sleep last night." It wasn't an entire lie.

"Maybe if you didn't stuff yourself with cheese before going to bed you wouldn't have nightmares," Trunks pointed out and pinched a segment of orange from her hand. "And you can't flag the Saiyan appetite card anymore. You don't train with me and dad."

"I don't stuff myself! And besides, quitting training has hardly stunted Goten's appetite, " Bra argued.

"Funny how you always manage to wangle him into conversation," Trunks gave her a sly, knowing look. "In any case he's not a good example," he paused and pulled a face. "For _anything_."

Bra straightened her shoulders, looking disdainful. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said, but Trunks was fairly certain that she did. She caught the knowing look in her brother's eye for a second and felt her face flush, looked instead for something to busy herself with.

Quickly, Bra eyed Trunk's knotted tie and snatched it between her slender fingers. "Give me that," she said with an irritated sigh. "So what are you doing up at this time?"

Trunks was thumbing through the newspaper with a casual eye. "Some of us have to work for a living."

Bra frowned. "I'm a full time student. I don't have time to work." She glanced at the kitchen clock, which read 6:00am. "And my lecturers don't normally start until 9:00am, as do most jobs. Which brings me back to my original question. Why are you up so early?" she asked, a shrewd glint in her eye. "Maybe you're not so unattached as _the Daily West_ would lead us to believe?" she jerked his tie teasingly.

Trunks moaned, exasperated. "You'd make a cruel journalist, Bra."

"Then you're very lucky I'm studying history and politics," she grinned.

He grimaced. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Trunks folded his paper and laid it on the table. "It's nothing too exciting. Deceptedo wanted me in early this morning so that we could get a mile high pile of reports finished in 'record time'."

"Deceptedo? The PA who wears glasses which magnify his eyes to saucers?" Bra sniggered.

Trunks ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and groaned. "He drives me crazy! I've never known anyone who can't sit still longer than a minute without panicking about one bloody thing or another."

"He's the only Personal Assistant who's lasted longer than a month without handing in their notice or stalking you," Bulma scolded from the doorway. She looked as unkempt and exhausted as the rest of them, still dressed in her pyjamas and bunny slippers. There was an empty coffee mug in her hand. She gazed at it woefully. "The coffee machine's broken."

Bra wanted to smack her own forehead. Her mother had the brains of a rocket scientist, but her skills apparently stop a foot short of the kitchen. "Can't you fix it?"

"I've been up all night fixing things," Bulma grumbled. "And then your father… I need my caffeine fix. Where's the instant?"

"None left." Trunks sweated. "Already checked."

Disgruntled, Bra grabbed some fruit from the bowl and walked towards the blender. "I'll make a smoothie," she said, a sardonic smile gracing her lips. "I don't know what you'd do without me."

Bulma instantly brightened, clapping her hands together. "That's my bunny girl! I'm going for a shower," she announced, and strolled easily out of the kitchen just as Vegeta padded sullenly into it.

Trunks chuckled. "Played you like a fiddle."

"My wardrobe for a conventional family!" Bra proclaimed dramatically and handed him the first glass.

Trunks downed the fruit juice and glanced at his watch. "Right, better get going or Deceptedo will have a heart attack. Or start crying again. I don't know which is worse." He paused and eyed her suspiciously. Vegeta was busy piling pancakes and frying bacon onto a plate. He lowered his voice. "You still look like crap. Go back to bed, bunny."

Bra averted her eyes to the floor. A lump caught in her throat as the grim image of the boy lamplighter, so similar to her own brother, resurfaced from her memory. She took a breath and smiled hesitantly. "I'm fine. Nothing a little shopping therapy with Marron won't cure."

Trunks glanced at Vegeta again. Apparently his father was too engrossed in his breakfast to notice anything else. "If you say so," he said and ruffled Bra's long blue hair affectionately before walking out the door, the jam stain on his white shirt still intact. "Say hi to Marron, I haven't seen her in ages. Bye dad!" Vegeta ignored him.

Bra poured Bulma's fruit juice into a glass and left it on the kitchen table beside Vegeta, who was reading the front page of _the Daily West_ with one eyebrow raised. She studied his back for a moment, a sad, dull pain in her chest. Once there had been a time she could tell her father anything. They had always shared a close bond. But something told Bra this was one thing she'd prefer to keep secret.

'_Only for now,'_ she promised herself stubbornly, '_I will tell him eventually.'_

Without a word, she began to walk away, intent on getting some rest before meeting Marron.

But a voice suddenly froze her in her tracks.

"So. Do you want to tell me why your feet are dirty?" Vegeta said.

**oOo**

Trunks crept silently into his office. Thankfully there had been no sign of his frazzled Personal Assistant thus far. He heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed into his chair, stifling a yawn. '_Maybe he's sick?'_ Trunks thought hopefully and felt instantly ashamed. It wasn't that he disliked his assistant. But Deceptedo Billaba was more wound up than a rubber band. '_And gayer than a crème puff,'_ he smirked.

"You're late," a bemused voice whispered in his ear. Trunks let out a high-pitched cry of alarm and leapt from his chair, clutching his pounding chest.

"Caithion!" he gasped, looking wide eyed at the office manager. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Caithion did not smile, instead took an easy draw of the long cigarette wedged between his fingers and breathed a steady stream of smoke into the handsome President's face. "I did knock," he replied easily.

Trunks coughed and waved away the acrid cloud of smoke. "I didn't hear you," he eyed the cigarette and grimaced. Caithion reached an intimidating height and though his muscular build was nothing to be impressed by, his slanted purple eyes were full of a casual self-confidence, which Trunks sorely lacked. It annoyed him that he felt so daunted by one of his own employees. Normally he took it out on his PA.

'_Well not any more,'_ Trunks swore stubbornly and faced the towering man. "You can't smoke that in here."

Caithion gave him a long, bemused look before nodding silently. "As the President wishes." He stubbed the cigarette out on the finely polished oak desk and flicked the remains through the window. "Ink boy's been searching for you. There's a message," he said.

Trunks frowned at the mark on his new desk, but quickly decided not to make an issue out of it. "Ink boy?"

"That would be me," Deceptedo said as he hurried into the office carrying a large box of loose papers, which had scattered a trail down the corridor. Deceptedo coughed and hacked dramatically on the cloud of smoke and picked up a can of room deodoriser with an irritated sigh. "You're a wretched thing, Caithion."

The Office manager simply shrugged his skinny shoulders and smiled sinfully, before slinking away down the bustling corridor.

"Who left a message for me?" Trunks inquired, curiously.

Deceptedo grumbled, pushing his sliding glasses up his nose. "Son Pan, I believe." He opened his waistcoat and peered inside. Curious, Trunks looked too. To his surprise, his PA had stuck hundreds of little post-its on the inside of his jacket.

"Ah, here it is!" Deceptedo announced happily, plucking a yellow note pinned above his pocket. "Yes, a message from Son Pan – '_I have a little brother,'_," Deceptedo began to read aloud, before Trunks snatched the note away from him.

'_Trunks, mum and dad have had a boy! It looks like I'm not the baby of the family anymore.'_

"She'll be happy at that," Trunks murmured to himself, smiling.

'_I'm moving back to the city tomorrow, so expect a visit in the afternoon,'_ the note read, '_P.S. His name's Nail. Son Nail.'_

**oOo**

Bra hated studying in libraries; especially Western City's crumbling old building. It _felt_ old too, like Hanging Rock, and its arched ceilings were high and illustrated with ancient frescos depicting semi-naked, busty women. Students filed around her desk, old women thumbed noisily through romantic paperback novellas and a strong smell of stale coffee lingered in the air.

Grumbling to herself, Bra grabbed her book and marched purposefully outside into the open street. She glanced at her watch, which read 12.00pm. Going home was an absolute no. Bra was not looking forwards to seeing her father again after the awkward conversation they had shared earlier that morning.

'_The park will still be relatively empty,'_ she thought. '_Perhaps it's not too much to hope for some peace and quiet.'_ Bra sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt at her terrible impatience. It did bother her when people poked fun at her for her perfectionism. She supposed she should be used to it. After all, people often sneered and whispered behind her back, calling her a pompous snob or a spoilt princess, even now at University. Being the daughter of a millionaire, Bra was often judged harshly from the get go. Few people really liked her. There had been a period of time at school where she had allowed herself to be pulled in to a popular crowd of wealthy, good-looking, and completely shallow, students. It almost cost her Pan and Marron's friendship. The memory certainly wasn't one she relished.

Ignoring the leers she received from a group of passing boys, Bra examined the cover of the book she had checked out from the library: a short history of Gods and Goddesses by Dr Kilos. It was a slim book with a plastic jacket, meant only for casual reading for the young adult. But Bra was sure it would give her the information she sought. She licked her finger and thumbed through the sticky pages, coming to a stop at chapter nine: a short biography of Loki, _the Sly-One_.

Her heart thumped. '_I knew I'd heard that name before.'_

Anxiously, she read on.

'Loki, more commonly known as the shape-shifting Trickster God, was the shrewd master of guile and deception. While not necessarily evil, it was often hard to tell whether he was on the side on the Gods or not. For countless millennia he served the High Court by aiding the Gods, or their chosen heroes, on great adventures - rescuing them from grave danger with his cunning and extraordinary ability to change form and sex. However, Loki's rare vanity got the better of him and his trickery grew corrupt and sinful. As punishment for his wicked deeds, Morpheus, the God of Dreams, banished him to the land of nightmares.'

Bra dug her fingers into the book jacket, her heart pounding. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, but could not tear her eyes away from the words on the page and nearly bumped into a little girl, who brushed past her skirt as she ran by.

Bra mumbled an apology and read on.

'Loki fathered many children, the most famous he bore together with Angrboda, the Giantess: Fenrir the Wolf Lord, Hel, ruler of the realm of the dead and the Midgard serpent, or Leviathan, who was said to be so massive that only the oceans of the world could contain its vast bulk.'

Suddenly Bra felt very stupid and very gullible. "This _is_ ridiculous," she grumbled and toyed with dumping the book in the nearest trashcan, when a shrill cry suddenly startled her out of her temper. A young girl, the same who had passed her only moments ago, had tumbled onto the busy main road. Blood drained from Bra's face as she saw the approaching truck slam on its brakes and she realised with horrifying certainty that it was too late. She dropped the book and dashed towards the road, her fingers brushing the child's arm before something caught her violently around the waist and hauled her backwards. The world spun in her vision, the truck's horns blared in her ears and she tumbled over and over again. Something wet and sticky hit her cheek.

Bra lay on the cold sidewalk, dazed and too petrified to turn around. She touched the wet substance on her face, feeling sick. '_No…'_

"Bura!" Someone was calling her name. "_Bura!_"

Slowly, Bra allowed the hands around her waist to ease her into a sitting position. Her head was throbbing.

"Bura? Are you alright?" the voice asked, a concerned tone. Gentle fingers brushed the bruise on her forehead.

Bra was shocked to find herself sitting in Goten's lap, his worried face studying hers. "Goten? What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning.

"Never mind that," Goten replied, impatiently. "What the Hell did you think you were doing out there?"

He was angry, she thought. Goten was never angry.

"That girl," Bra stuttered, choking on a sob. "That little girl was hit, I couldn't grab her in time. I heard her mother scream and saw her run onto the road, but it was too late -" the words came out in a garbled heap as the guilt washed over her.

But when she caught the look of bewilderment on Goten's face, her heart sank.

"Bra, you're in shock. There was no one on the road. You ran out in front of a bus." Shaken, Goten brushed the hair from her forehead. "For a moment I thought I'd lost you, Bunny," he teased, shuddering a laugh. He dropped his head and groaned. "Vegeta would have killed me if anything had happened to you."

Bra said nothing, only curled her head into Goten's shoulder and stared at the road, buzzing with traffic. She touched her cheek, still wet with blood.

**oOo**

**Ladybugg:** I'm glad you're enjoying the mystery! Hope the conclusion doesn't disappoint you XD  
**Vladegurl:** Cheers! lol, to be honest I don't really know what's going on either... Well, I do to a point I guess. I'm hoping to suprise myself D  
**Leanne:** Haha, the old one WAS bad! Terrible in fact. I'm hoping my writing has improved since then. Thanks for the review, I hope you liked this chappy!  
**Serverussweetie:** Aww, thank you so much for reviewing this luv! Glad you like it hugs 


	4. Angels and Reapers

**A/N:** Merry New Year!! Here's a small pressie for you all. Jeice finally makes an appearance…  
**Jeice:** An' it's about bloody time!

For every chapter I've decided to give the characters a theme song. Feel free to send me character songs of your own too!

**1st. Character Song**  
Bra Briefs: Evanescence - Tourniquet

**Within Me**  
Angels and Reapers

King Enma's helpers scattered across the room, their blue faces wrought with anxiety as they shuffled nervously around the enormous desk. Enma himself, a pink faced giant sporting a thorny beard and deep lines embedded in his forehead due to a millennia of stress, sat rigidly behind his desk in the Other World entrance hall.

Jeice eyed the man with a measure of apprehension and contempt. After all, it was Enma who he held partially responsible for his two-decade holiday in Hell.

What's more, Jeice could not begin to guess at the reason for his summons. A feeling of trepidation was beginning to swell in his gut. A few years ago (at least he supposed it was a few years - while time didn't exactly exist in the afterlife, it sure felt like it if you were squandering in the pits of Hell) Zarbon, Frieza's cunning Right Hand Man, had been summoned by Enma and not long afterwards, Burter had followed. Neither had returned and while Zarbon's absence didn't particularly vex him, Burter had been the closest thing to a friend Jeice had ever known.

Jeice furrowed his snowy brow and chewed on his lip as he tried to imagine a fate worse than being blown up, humiliated and sent to Hell. Being blessed with a fertile imagination however, he quickly decided to cease his current train of thought, instead focused his sullen green eyes on Enma and awaited the Giant's lecture.

Ten long minutes passed, the young man growing increasingly aggravated with each tick of the clock. He was by no means a patient being. The Captain had never been very amused by his inability to sit still longer than a minute. Enma however was cool and composed as he leaned back into the arch of his armchair. Looking pensive, the Judge gazed at the red skinned soldier before him, his mind an angry buzz of conflicting arguments.

'_This boy's nothing but a punk,'_ Enma thought irritably, '_Cold and selfish. Unpredictable. No remorse whatsoever. What use can he be, even to those who have no hope?'_

Unable to bare another second of standing unacknowledged, Jeice snapped. "Ah'm I gonna be waitin' here for another decade before you decide yeh want to chat, or is borin' immortal souls to tears a new form of torture for the condemned?"

Enma continued to ignore him, reaching for his clipboard instead, which was almost as large as the ex-Ginyu Soldier himself. Jeice watched with suspicious eyes as the Judge began scribbling notes down.

"They informed me you were cocky one," he muttered resentfully.

"Who did?" Jeice demanded.

"You were employed by one Captain Ginyu as a member of his "elite pirating fighters", correct?" Enma enquired.

"What about it?"

"As a group of five you were hired as mercenaries by the late _Lord Frieza _to serve under him and carry out any order thus given."

The man grunted in disdain. "Look is this goin' anywhere old man, 'cause I really don't need nor fancy a trip down memory lane."

"Between you, the brutal murder of three thousand people was carried out. You alone are responsible for the loss of three hundred and sixty-two lives."

Jeice almost flinched, but was quick to catch himself, shrugging his shoulders instead. "It was survival of the fittest – a case of limited options. An' ah had no intentions of becomin' a slave."

"You have no regrets then?" Enma asked, quietly.

This time Jeice lowered his eyes. "What's done is done."

Enma stopped writing and laid his clipboard down on the desk. He scratched his beard and shook his head. "I don't suppose you have any concept of Hitsuzen?"

Jeice cocked an eyebrow. "Hitsu-what?"

"Hit-Su-Zen," Enma repeated, irritably. "_Hitsuzen._ Where certain events, decisions and actions in life - and death - relate to one another by a complex string of ties that bind, so that without them particular important events in the future cannot happen; events that are _meant_ to happen and _must_ happen."

Jeice simply gawked. "…ah'm not following."

Enma huffed. "It is Inevitability, simply put."

"Oh!" the pirate exclaimed. "You mean like Fate?"

"No! Fate is definite; Fate is unchangeable. To be conducted by Fate is to be a puppet on a string. Hitsuzen is inevitability and Hitsuzen is precisely the reason why I have your empty-headed carcass standing before me."

"Fine, fine. Geez, lighten up. Yer already dead," Jeice grumbled.

Enma glowered and shuffled a stack of papers impatiently. "There has been an …upset as of late, and we require your workmanship. One of our Death Bringers disappeared recently and the files of their ward, Bura Briefs, have been tampered with."

"Death Bringer?" Jeice interrupted. "What, like a Shinigami? They actually exist?"

"Of course they exist!" Enma barked, unused to being so easily interrupted. "How else do you think spirits find their way here?"

Jeice snorted and tossed his white mane across one shoulder. "Ah don't remember any Shinigami bringin' me here."

A vein popped on Enma's broad forehead. "That's because you're not supposed to remember," he replied through gritted teeth. "Now, this is certainly against my better judgement, but it you have been chosen as a temporary replacement for Bura Briefs Shinigami."

"What?!" Jeice choked. "Yer settin' me free?"

A sardonic grin spread itself across Enma's face. "Don't get too excited now." The giant clapped two enormous hands together and summoned a figure waiting patiently in the corner. "This will be your mentor and partner for the time being."

Enma motioned with one outstretched arm as the shadows dispersed to reveal a young woman, no older than Jeice himself. She strode confidently into the middle of the Entrance Hall and took a deep bow before him.

"Saku Ookami, an Angel-in-training. She will be your watcher and report directly back to me if you, ahem, happen to get out of hand."

Jeice glanced at the angel, who shot a most un-angelic smile back at him, and sweated.

"But what've I got t' do?" Jeice protested to the Judge. "I don't know the first soddin' thing about being a Shinigami!"

"The date of Bura Briefs death has been tampered with. You will watch over her and prevent her from harm until we discover the whereabouts of her Shinigami and retrieve her stolen death certificate. While we expect the meddler to reveal himself soon, we cannot be everywhere at once."

"Really?" Jeice smirked. "Santa Claus can."

Enma scowled and grumbled something inaudible, and likely rude, into his beard. "You must take this task very seriously. This act of misconduct brings evil tidings and if what I suspect is true, then we are all of us in very grave danger. Death is not the end of things, after all."

He looked to the Angel-in-training, who looked grimly back at him.

And Jeice left the Judge feeling as if he knew even less about the situation than he did before he arrived.

**oOo**

**Rose Kitty:** Glad you like it. I've never really written a mystery before, I'm a bit worried it's _too_ confusing at times, haha!

**Leanne: **Well the original concept and villain is there, but there's less angst… at least for the first few chapters. I felt like the last version was a little too emo for my tastes lol. Oh, and the blood on Bra's cheek was the little girl's…hence the mystery, muhaha!

**Ladybugg:** I'm happy that you're still enjoying the updated version of the story! Hope you like the future chapters too!

**Caith:** As if I could keep Caithion out of this fic, even if he only has a small cameo smirk Besides, he gives me a good excuse to bring Trunks down off his high horse every now and again.

HAPPY NEW YEAR ALL!!! & remember to send in character songs!


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